


Fifty Percent Nonsense

by owlpockets



Series: Femslash Big Bang 2016 [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, F/F, Female Friendship, Outdoor Sex, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:32:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlpockets/pseuds/owlpockets
Summary: Romancing rogues is always an adventure.  Scout Harding always managed to crush on the worst people, except this time it worked out better than she expected.  Sera falls in the swamp and zombies touch her.  There's a hunger ghost that tells knock-knock jokes.  Everything is ridiculous.





	1. Three Trout and a Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Parts of this have been previous posted as monthly challenges [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6972124) and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8705065). This fic was heavily influenced by (with occasional direct quote from) [Hello From the Magic Tavern](https://hellofromthemagictavern.com/), which you should all go check out right now.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, [ImaginAries](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginAries)! <3

“Ehehe...Three Trout Farm, eh?” Sera’s giggle sounded more like a cackle. “Do you really expect to _accommodate_ this many soldiers with only three fish? Seems like kind of a shite place to camp.”

“Er…” Harding was stumped by how to explain that it was just a silly local name and there were plenty of fish to go around without sounding too condescending. Also, she was unsure if Sera had made a joke and she had missed the punch line.

“Get it? Get it? Only three fish in the camp!” Sera started elbowing Dorian in the ribs.

Her efforts were met with an eye roll and a gentle but unfriendly shove in return. “You are revolting,” Dorian muttered while stalking away toward the tent closest to the edge of the camp.

“Hilarious,” answered Inquisitor Cadash with flat inflection, her lips twitching in a faint smile in Harding’s direction.

Seeker Pentaghast had her nostrils flared and a deep frown on her severe features as she stood at the back of the group. The four travellers had looked rather worse for wear upon arrival, suggesting that they had probably been listening to Sera’s tasteless sense of humor for days for lack of anything else to entertain them on their journey.

“But what...oh.” Harding started, then the innuendo clicked and she loosed a short burst of laughter before she could stop herself. “Sorry,” she followed up quickly, feeling a faint redness creep across her face as a monstrous grin contorted Sera’s lips.

“See, she thinks it’s funny! The rest of you can go fuck a druffalo, Harding is my bestie now.”

“I don’t--” Harding started defensively, but Cadash’s guffaws drowned her out and continued to haunt her for several seconds as she and the Seeker moved toward the tents.

“Come on bestie, show me where the grub is.”

Suddenly alone with Sera, who threw one long arm around her shoulders to steer her toward the cookpot, Harding realized she always managed to crush on the worst people.

__

Harding was finishing her final check around the camp for the night, having been on rotation for first watch. The fire was burning low within the circle of tents, smoldering in the drizzle that had started up again just after sundown. Sera was still awake, sitting hunched over near the fire trying to revive it with some pokes from an arrow that was clearly broken beyond repair. While her bedroll was appealing, she hesitated at the tent flap and decided to join Sera instead. Harding looked forward to the rare times work allowed her to cross paths, and she couldn’t waste a chance to try to spend some time with her. Or maybe flirt a little. The rumors suggested that Sera wouldn’t be averse to a friendly flirt. Probably.

“Mind if join you?” Harding stood in the faint glow, unsure of what to do with her hands.

“Go ahead,” Sera answered, gesturing to the other side of the rotting log the camp had been using as a bench, but stood to leave. “I was just going to bed anyway. It’s too wet out here.”

Harding was disappointed and shifted her weight from foot to foot, debating if it would be awkward to change her mind and go to her own tent. Sera dropped her broken arrow and stretched her arms above her head, a rip in the bodice of her tunic accidentally causing her to show off rather more of her breasts that was decent.

“I could fix that for you,” Harding blurted out, trying to excuse herself from staring, for Sera had surely noticed that she was eye level with the exposed nipple. She pointed awkwardly at the rip, carefully training her eyes on Sera’s left ear instead.

“What?” Sera looked down as if she’d just noticed her clothing wasn’t completely intact. “Oh, that. Happened yesterday when we were fighting a bear. Not much good with needles.”

“I’m no tailor, but I can mend a rip well enough,” Harding said with a smile, glad that Sera didn’t seem bothered by the trajectory of her gaze.

“Brilliant.” Sera’s shirt was off in a blink. It dropped on her head before Harding could even utter a word of protest that her mending kit was in her tent. Sera folded her arms over her small breasts, dropping back down onto the log.

Harding pulled the shirt off her head and held it awkwardly. “Um...I’ll be right back.” She turned and marched toward her tent, taking a deep breath and grabbing a blanket along with her kit. Was this is a strange and overly forward type of flirting? Harding didn’t know all that much about romance with elves. Or all that much about Sera.

Once she had recovered her composure, Harding hurried back to rejoin Sera, immediately pulling the blanket around her skinny shoulders. “So you don’t freeze your tits off in the meantime,” Harding answered Sera’s raised eyebrow with a small blushing smile.

Sera’s appeared to be mulling over her gesture as Harding settled in and started digging around for an appropriate color of thread. She was uncharacteristically quiet for a few moments, watching Harding work through narrowed eyes. Eventually Harding began to hum softly, the scrutiny making her nervous about what Sera might be thinking.

“I think I know that one,” Sera blurted out. She started to sing, perhaps a little too loudly for a sleeping camp, “Seven dragons and a baby sitting in their nest…uh...the baby dances round the dragons while they take their rest, the baby understands the danger, knows he must be careful, and if he is successful then the dragons make him waffles!”

Sera did not have a great singing voice and Harding bit down on her tongue to keep from laughing too loudly. “I don’t think that’s how it goes!”

“No, no, it does! Listen,” Sera protested and kept singing in the same off key tune, “Seven dragons and a baby marching on the town

The villagers are fearful, but the baby calms them down,  
Explains to them he understands that dragons can be awful,  
But if they want some breakfast, yes, the dragons make them waffles!

Seven dragons and a baby sitting on their thrones,  
The anteroom before them filled with rags and skulls and bones,  
A townsman stands before them and insists this is unlawful,  
The dragons kill the townsman and the baby makes them waffles!”

Harding couldn’t help her squawk of laughter this time, and she dropped her sewing things in her lap to clap enthusiastically.

Someone in a nearby tent yelled, “Shut up!”

Harding and Sera both clapped hands over their mouths and looked at each other with mirth in their eyes. “I guess we should be a bit quieter,” Harding whispered as she went back to her task.

“I heard a dwarven fairytale once.” Sera started to recite quietly, in a choppy sing-song. “Mindless he wanders, all unawary, where small dwarven should not tarry…something something...your eyes are shining, bright and something.” She grinned at Harding across the small space between them.

”Not bad, but I don’t think unawary is a word,” Harding laughed softly as she finished up her work on Sera’s tunic.

“Yeah, but it sounds better.” Sera pulled the blanket more tightly around herself, a slight shiver running through her body.

“Done!” Harding held up her handiwork for Sera to inspect, which she merely glanced at and stuffed under the blanket.

After some rummaging, Sera emerged fully clothed and took a longer look at the stitching in the dying light of the fire. “This is great, thanks. I owe you more than a dumb fairy story.”

“It wasn’t anything, really.” Harding collected her things and moved to stand. “My pleasure,” she added as an afterthought, hoping to convey that she enjoyed their time together.

“That could be arranged.” Sera’s hands fluttered uncertainly in the faint drizzle that had started up again. “Um...I could eat you out? If you want? I don’t wanna take my clothes off again, too much damp and cold for anything else.”

Harding’s thoughts of getting ready for bed stuttered to a halt. “Did you just…?”

“Yeah,” Sera replied quickly. “That’s why you’ve been, like, staring at my tits all night, right?”

“Well, yes...if you want to, I would like that very much,” Harding managed to get out despite feeling rather tongue-tied and more than a bit dumbfounded that for once her ill-advised affections were being reciprocated.

“Score,” Sera replied with a grin, throwing the blanket off onto the ground before tugging on Harding’s leathers. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

‘Private’ did not really translate in a small outpost like this, but Harding wasn’t about to risk dampening Sera’s enthusiasm now. Sera dragged her along to the edge of camp and behind the caved in house where a little crumbling wall held its own against the elements.

“Private-ish, yeah?” Sera said hopefully. She was fiddling with Harding’s clothes and trying to kiss her but mostly missing due to the awkward height difference. 

“Here...stop, stop, it’ll go faster if I do it,” Harding protested between fumbled kisses. She batted Sera’s hands away and deftly started undoing the laces of her breeches before working on the buckles of her vest and boots. Partially unclothed, she was pale enough to almost glow in the weak moonlight. Sera was looking her over, clearly fascinated by something.

“Never seen a buck naked dwarf before?” Harding teased, taking a quick, girlish twirl on her toes. The air was cool enough to make her nipples pebble under her thin shirt; the sensation was a little exciting rather than bothersome.

“Not a lady one. You have freckles on your bum,” Sera giggled as she poked some of them with one finger. “Are they everywhere?”

Harding lifted her top up and gestured around her torso to demonstrate. “Pretty much, yeah.” She pulls the fabric back down over her stomach, a bit too chilly to go completely naked outdoors. At least the infernal drizzle had stopped for a while.

“Mm...nice.” Sera penned her in against the wall, crouching low to finally get a proper kiss. “You should sit up on this or I’ll be too tall.”

Harding complied, hopping up on the wall with her legs spread and using her arms to help balance as she leaned back. The surface was damp and cold under her bare buttocks, but at least the rocks were worn smooth and relatively comfortable. Sera was settling on her knees, already kissing along Harding’s thigh, with one slender hand holding loosely onto one of her ankles as a counterbalance.

With Sera’s incredibly skilled tongue, it didn’t take long for Harding to be teetering on the edge of orgasm, attempting to stifle her moans by biting her lower lip almost hard enough to bruise. She was so close, her thighs taut and toes flexing toward the ground. Her efforts to avoid making too much noise in the cramped camp were failing with the increasing rhythmic speed of Sera’s tongue around her clit. Naturally, that’s when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and it took a moment for her to register it was Seeker Pentaghast, probably making her rounds for second watch. Harding grabbed Sera’s hair to stop her, but the Seeker had already continued on her way, a disgusted “ugh” floating back to Harding’s ears.

“Whassat?” Sera grumbled, shifting between her knees. “Oy, Cass, you want in on this or what?” she called belatedly when she realized what had caused the interruption.

Someone yelled “shut up!” from inside one of the tents, the same voice as before. Harding started laughing, muffling the sound with the palm of her hand. Sera was grinning up at her, using her deft fingers to quickly get her off without any more teasing. Feeling rather boneless, Harding dropped off the wall while Sera handed over her breeches and underthings. After dressing haphazardly and cramming her feet into her boots, Harding held on lightly to Sera’s elbow as they strolled back to the tents.

“That was fun, yeah?” Sera sounded hopeful with a hint of self-confidence, which Harding was happy to indulge. Sera did have a _very nice_ tongue.

“Definitely,” Harding agreed as she opened the flap to her tent. “You can share with me, if you want.”

“Alright, as long as you don’t care I got cuntbreath.” Sera punctuated this with a rude gesture and dived straight into Harding’s bedroll. 

Harding repeated the gesture back at her as she paused at the flap to kick off her boots, a courtesy Sera seemed to have forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear the original "Seven Dragons and a Baby" from Hello From the Magic Tavern [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptWNd-RaeMI). The dwarven fairytale poem is "Veata Tezpadam!" and can be found in World of Thedas, vol. 2 (p. 211).


	2. The Good Bucket

“This road is a nightmare,” Sera whined, wrinkling her nose at the mud creeping up her leggings. It had already consumed her boots. “I don’t mind a bit of dirt normally, but…this is not what I would call normal dirt. Why do we gotta walk this way again?”

Behind her, Dorian mumbled vaguely in agreement, having exhausted his capacity for boisterous complaint hours ago. Cassandra said nothing, but offered a grunt of effort as she freed her heavy boot from the suctioning muck. 

The Inquisitor wasn’t faring much better, her own boots only saved from becoming mired down merely by virtue of being considerably smaller than Cassandra’s. “I thought it might lead us to higher ground to make camp, but I admit…I might have been…wrong….” she replied slowly, punctuated by frustrated whacks of her mud-caked leather glove against a nearby tree. “Ugh.”

Sera took several deep breaths to stop herself from exploding when something crawled over her toes _inside_ her boot. She grabbed onto a low-hanging branch and swung onto it for a safe place to sit while she urgently and forcefully evicted whatever it was with averted eyes. Sera dared not look or she might actually scream and bring the armies of undead upon them yet again. She was far too tired for a fight and it looked like now they were going to have to double back, too.

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra hesitated, frowning as if she found what she was about to say distasteful but necessary. “May I suggest we turn back for now and request assistance in the morning after we have rested?”

Cadash sighed and pulled her hopeless glove back on. “I think you’re right, Cass. We’re getting nowhere in this.”

Sera didn’t attempt to contain her relieved glee as she hopped down from the branch, eager at the prospect of being able to climb back into Harding’s tent soon. “Dibs on the good bucket!” she called after her, sprinting ahead to avoid any argument from her companions. 

The “good” bucket was the only one that didn’t leak in several directions, and thus had been unofficially reserved for the Inquisitor. Sera didn’t think that was fair under the circumstances (the circumstances being a Maker-forsaken zombie swamp that Sera would normally never touch with a ten-foot pole), and she suspected Cadash would agree if she wasn’t all tied up in military politics.

Reaching high ground well ahead of the others, Sera paused to pick a few sad looking flowers near the path. The petals were drooping and grayish, but they had optimistically yellow centers and lush green leaves. As a gift they were better than nothing, though Sera hoped they weren’t somehow poisonous. Harding would know, she knew everything about plants and shit, it was disgustingly cute. Maybe she could convince Harding to wash her back. And other parts. All her parts, if she was lucky. 

Sera had been utterly preoccupied with Harding and her full-body freckles over the past several weeks, a near constant and pleasant hum in the back of her mind that put an extra spring in her step. Mostly, the hum didn’t affect her ability to function like a normal person, but fantasizing about her upcoming bath was terribly distracting. Sera trod on a rock, slick with rain, and went down hard on the muddy embankment, sliding right into the water on her ass with a yelp.

The water wasn’t deep, but it was shockingly cold and full of weeds and other things she preferred not to think about. Something grabbed at her ankle and Sera froze in panic. Her bow was behind her on the bank, out of reach even if she stretched. With a well-aimed kick, Sera knocked a hand away from her leg, but an arm was creeping around her waist, trapping the dagger at her hip. 

“Fuck, fuck…damn!” Sera hissed and pushed at the arm, a surge of panic rising in her chest, and then suddenly she felt herself lifted clear out of the water by her armpits. 

“What are you doing?” Cassandra snapped, stomping on the rotting arm that had been holding Sera down moments before until the bone made a muffled crunch under her foot. “This is not the time to be daydreaming.”

“My knight in shining armor,” Sera gasped, wiggling her feet until Cassandra set her down on solid ground. She grabbed her bow and fired off two quick shots to take down the second unmentionable creature she didn’t want to think about stumbling toward them.

“Arsenuggets, they’re ruined,” Sera groaned, picking up one of the flowers she had crushed accidentally sliding through the mud.

“What is?” Cassandra moved closer and peered over Sera’s shoulder.

“The flowers I picked for Harding.” Sera sighed miserably and dropped them back on the ground. She was tired, muddy, soaking wet, and now also defeated in her romantic efforts. “They were kind of fugly anyway.”

Cassandra shifted her weight and looked off at the foggy horizon. “It was a nice gesture,” she said in gruff consolation. “I’ve noticed how much you…care about her.”

“Yeah, well…” Sera swallowed hard around a lump of frustration rising in her throat. These were such petty things to get upset over. “I wish we could spend more time together, you know?”

“Perhaps you should invite her to visit you at Skyhold.” Cassandra attempted to cross her arms, found she could not over her heavy plate, and settled for holding the pommel of her sword instead.

“Yeah…yeah. Shit. I should do that.” The idea of getting to spend time with Harding at home in her cozy room rather than surrounded by prying ears in a threadbare tent made her toes curl and her insides warm despite her current state of being.

“I think we would all like to see Harding more often, she is good company. And good at cards.” Cassandra quirked a smile, glancing sidelong at Sera.

A terrible, awful, amazing idea dawned on Sera all at once. “We should have a girls’ night and get totally pissed and throw shit off the roof. It’ll be grand!”

“That is _not_ …” Cassandra instantly started to protest, but stopped thoughtfully for a moment before continuing, “…maybe not the last part.”

“You two look like you’re conspiring about something sinister. What are we talking about?” Dorian asked with a hint of muted amusement as he and Cadash caught up with them.

“Your mum’s gaping hole,” Sera shot back, feeling a bit more like herself. Cassandra may be a stick in the mud most of the time, but she was a good friend when it counted.

“Why do I ever try to talk to you?” Dorian replied, looking to the sky for answers and finding none at the same time Cassandra admonished, “Don’t be crass.”

Sera was trying very hard to suppress her grin and probably failing. “Actually, we’re just planning a girls’ night. You in?”

Dorian narrowed his eyes and frowned in vexation, which probably had the opposite effect than he intended considering the state of his hair and mustache. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended.”

The Inquisitor was laughing silently beside him, landing a heavy slap on his shoulder. “I’m in,” she managed to choke out before breaking down in a series of short guffaws. “Let’s get moving before we lose the last of the daylight.”

Sera felt her spirits lift as they started down the road toward camp together. “I’ve always wanted to see Lady Josie tits out drunk, you gotta invite her too!” 

“Honestly? Me too,” Cadash agreed wistfully.

Sera made small talk and jokes with the Inquisitor the rest of the way to camp, which took her mind off of how wet and miserable she was. The good bucket was indeed available, and no one tried to stop her using it upon her return, largely because by that point it had sprung a leak like all the others. Harding agreed to wash her back.


	3. Knock Knock

It was late by the time they crawled into their bedrolls; Harding was too exhausted to do much else but fall asleep instantly. Tired as she was, Sera tossed and turned, ears picking up the smallest sounds of people moving around camp, or insects and other creepy crawlies calling in the night. The occasional distant moan of the undead made her shiver and stare unblinking at the tent flap, though she knew the camp was safe.

Eventually, the camp sounds died down, and yet the quiet made her more alert. Sera crept out of bed and out into the darkness, thinking to replace the flowers for Harding. She took her bow and several daggers and knives, which she secreted about her person. If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well do something besides stare at the ceiling. 

The swamp felt less sinister that night, with a sliver of moonlight illuminating the sky and enticing all the ordinary wildlife out of hiding. With luck, Sera thought she might also find something small and tasty to shoot for breakfast later. Small toads fled her feet in frantic droves, and Sera grimaced at the soft bursting feeling under her heel when she accidentally stepped on one that couldn’t get away fast enough.

The path she chose was well worn and led to high ground; she wasn’t eager to repeat her tumble into the water and her boots were already utterly encased in mud from their trek earlier that day. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to see a nug snuffling for mushrooms in the grass nearby. _Well, nug is better than nothing…_ Sera thought as she nocked an arrow. 

The shot was true, and the thump of the arrow finding its mark scared two more out of hiding as they bolted toward a stand of large rocks. Sera pulled two more arrows, tracking the running nugs, but they were too far away to risk wasting a shot. Sera bagged her kill along with a few handfuls of the edible mushrooms growing from a wet log. Food was a way better gift than weird swamp flowers, Sera decided, and she stalked after the two that fled. There might be a nest and she could then be the breakfast hero rescuing the entire camp from dry rations.

The rocks did indeed conceal the entrance to a small cave. It appeared to be shallow when Sera first entered, but then she saw movement and a hint of bluish light near the back wall and realized there was at least a nug-sized extension. Sera grinned triumphantly and dropped to her knees to investigate the hole. At least ten nugs, along with some of the biggest luminescent mushrooms she had ever seen were inside. The cavern was not large, and didn’t appear to have any other openings, which gave her pause. She didn’t like the idea of only having one way out, but the space was definitely too small for giant spiders and the potential haul of fresh food was too enticing.

Sera wiggled easily through the opening and into the cavern, drawing a dagger to use for harvesting mushrooms. The nugs didn’t seem terribly bothered by her presence due to the scent of the dead one wafting out from her sack as a convenient camouflage. Her skin prickled unpleasantly when she faced away from the entrance, but for the sake of finishing her task quickly she tried to ignore the vague uneasiness washing over her.

All at once, she realized the nugs were gone, and she was alone in the cavern. Where the cave had once been warm and humid, a rising dry chill moved from her toes through the tips of her ears. Sera turned back to the opening quickly, expecting…well, she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but there was nothing. Still, she felt the need to leave urgently, and tied off her sack to toss through the opening first.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The voice was despondent and ethereal, and seemed to be coming from all directions at once.

Sera shouted in surprise and drew a second dagger, back up against the wall on her butt as she tried to find the source. “Show yourself, nuglicker,” she spat, rolling forward into a crouch.

The voice obliged, albeit ponderously and with seeming tremendous effort, forming a humanoid shape to Sera’s left, in a particularly dark alcove. “Rude,” it replied with an offended sniff.

“It’s damn well ruder to sneak up on someone like that.” Sera lunged forward and took a swipe at the shape with one of her daggers, but it passed right through. Disturbed, she inched back toward the opening. “Fuck. Are you a spirit?”

“I suppose,” the figure replied. It had something of a face now, and the voice was more recognizably male.

“Great, good on you then. I’ll just leave you to haunting or whatever….” Sera dropped down and started to crawl through the hole as fast as possible, until she caught a glimpse out of the cave entrance. The entire road was clustered with corpses. She ducked back inside. “Shitting hell.”

“I told you going out was a bad idea.” The spirit sounded smug and Sera wished she could stab it repeatedly.

The scent of the bloody nug she’d been dragging around must have attracted them. There were too many for her to fight through by herself. Sera felt a swell of panic expand in her chest. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, or even that she was leaving camp. Could she pick them off one by one from the mouth of the cave? Unlikely, considering she had only brought ten arrows. “Stupid stupid stupid,” Sera muttered to herself.

“Very,” agreed the spirit. “I wouldn’t mind if you…stayed here until they go away. We could share those mushrooms you found.”

Sera thought the idea of a spirit _eating mushrooms_ was terribly strange, but she kept quiet. What had Dorian told her about suspicious spirits? Was she not supposed to talk to them? Or did that advice only apply to demons?

“I could tell jokes to pass the time,” the spirit added hopefully.

Sera stared at the faint outline and lowered the daggers she had been holding in front of her, but she didn’t put them away. If she was going to be trapped in here indefinitely with a chatty ghost, she might as well get to know it. She was fairly certain Dorian had only warned her against talking to demons. Everything would be fine. Someone would find her come morning. Probably. “You got a name or something?”

“Hugo,” came the answer, and his tone was pleased. 

“Mine’s…Jenny,” Sera answered. Still, best to remain wary, she decided. She pulled her bag back into the cavern and hesitantly tossed a small mushroom over the spirit. “I didn’t think ghosts ate food, or at least not people food.”

Hugo caught the offering and swallowed it whole. The way it disappeared even though the spirit was translucent unnerved Sera. “Most of us don’t—eternal unending hunger is my curse. You don’t have any spiced potatoes in that bag by any chance?”

“No, sorry.” Sera tossed a larger mushroom to Hugo, a morbid fascination developing. Where does the food go? She asked him that very question, bluntly and with no effort to hide her disgust.

“Truthfully, I do not know. It just…goes away.”

“That’s weird,” Sera replied, then fell into a tense and uncomfortable silence. What in the Maker’s name was she supposed to talk about with a spirit? 

Hugo didn’t seem to mind the long silence much as he floated gently in the corner, but eventually he suggested, “Do you want to hear a joke?”

“…Yeah, alright,” Sera grudgingly agreed.

Excited—or as excited as someone without a real face could appear to be—Hugo clear his throat. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” This was not going to be good, Sera thought.

“Boo.”

Sera snorted. Predictable, and yet still an ironic start. She wondered if that was on purpose. Hugo seemed so terribly bland that it was hard to tell. “Boo who?”

“Stop crying, you little baby!” Hugo sounded delightedly smug as he delivered the punch line.

“Weak!” Sera grumbled. “Tell me a better one.”

“Okay, okay…” Hugo looked thoughtful. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Sera didn’t see how this could possible end well, but she was willing to give him a second chance since they were stuck in a cave together.

“Ice cream.” Hugo was looking a bit more solid than before, suddenly, but perhaps it was just the weak glow of the moon from a hole in the cavern high above them playing tricks with Sera’s night vision.

“Ice cream every time I see a ghost? Is that what you were going to say?” Sera sighed. “That really wasn’t any better than the first one. Let’s just go back to staring at each other, yeah?”

Hugo looked mildly put out by her guessing his joke. “Well…fine. But pass me a mushroom first.”

Sera complied, handing him both of the remaining mushrooms from her bag, and settled with her back leaning against the wall. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least it would keep her alert while allowing her some rest. She felt uneasy for a reason she couldn’t precisely put her finger on, and it wasn’t entirely to do with the hoard of undead moaning and jostling each other outside the cave. Hugo’s body had taken on a more humanoid shape, but she felt marginally more secure with a tangible being than a transparent one, so that was unlikely to be the source.

Eventually, Sera felt her eyelids getting heavy, the lack of proper sleep finally starting to catch up despite the circumstances. She shifted and pressed the heel of her hand to a sharp rock.

“I’m still hungry, can I have that nug?” Hugo interrupted the silence. His voice was different, it had taken on a wet quality that disturbed Sera into full wakefulness.

Sera didn’t answer, considering the implications of this new request. Even if she were about to drop dead of hunger, she thought she would never consider eating raw nug. Hugo took her lack of response in stride and switched back to jokes, his only other mode of communication, apparently. “Jenny…Jenny. Hey, Jenny? Knock knock.”

“…Who’s there?”

Hugo was fading again, for no reason Sera could discern, but his voice was stronger than ever. “Waiter.”

“Waiter who?” He was gone, save for a shapeless, ethereal flicker where he had been standing before.

“Waiter I get my hands on you,” came the answer from somewhere behind Sera, which was _impossible_ with the wall at her back.

Startled, Sera turned, thinking she had missed something crucial, like a hidden door in the stone, but there was nothing as she moved her hands carefully along the wall. Her voice was rather higher than she cared to admit when she replied, “That was the worst one yet! Where are you?”

“Here,” Hugo said in her ear, and it sounded like walking through mud with an undertone that reminded Sera far too much of flesh cracking over an open fire. A rotting sweetness wafted into her nostrils. 

Dread filled her gut, and Sera turned slowly, unblinking in the gloom as she felt the heft of the dagger she had never let go in her hand. Where there had been a spirit before was now a complete and solid man, ordinary saved for his grayish nakedness and gut so horrifically distended that the skin was splitting open around the navel. His jaw unhinged as he opened his mouth, lurching forward on top of her. Sera screamed.

__

“Have you seen Sera?” Harding asked for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. No one in camp thus far had anything more helpful than a shrug to offer. Save for Seeker Pentaghast, the Inquisitor’s inner circle were all still abed after a late night; Harding was unwilling to bother the Seeker in her early morning exercises unless absolutely necessary. She was starting to think it might be necessary. The camp was small with few places to hide.

Again, Harding received a shrug. Frustrated, she tapped her foot and crossed her arms, staring at the dying fire while her brain started filling in all sorts of terrible options. But she was being silly—Sera was more than capable of taking care of herself, even in unfamiliar terrain.

“You look troubled, lieutenant.” The voice behind her caused Harding to startle. 

“It’s nothing,” she replied. The Seeker didn’t look convinced and Harding relented. “Or, at least I think it’s nothing. Sera was in my tent last night, but she was gone when I woke. And now I can’t find her anywhere. It’s weird, I thought she usually sleeps late.”

Cassandra frowned. “She disappears to hunt sometimes, but she never goes far. It seems odd in a place such as this, but I’m sure you won’t have trouble finding her.”

Harding wasn’t terribly reassured, but it was something to go on. “I just….” She paused, trying to find words to convey what exactly was bothering her so much about Sera’s sudden absence. Their relationship was so new, and she thought perhaps she was worrying unnecessarily. And yet. “I have a bad feeling,” Harding finally admitted with a helpless shrug.

Cassandra, to her surprise, didn’t immediately dismiss her concerns as unimportant. “I will come with you to look for her, then. Give me a moment.”

The temporary relief Harding felt at being taken seriously by such a seasoned warrior was tempered by the very fact that she _was_ being taken seriously by such a seasoned warrior. If the Seeker had dismissed her, she might have still been worried, but at least she might have been reassured that danger was unlikely. Harding picked up her gear, tightening and retightening the buckles on her quiver while she waited, stomach in knots. She wished idly that she hadn’t eaten breakfast since it was sitting like a rock in her gut. Cassandra reappeared, dressed in her heavy plate, a shield at her back, and Harding almost vomited.

“You may lead,” Cassandra told her.

Harding nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak without either sounding slightly hysterical or cracking a terrible joke. Or both, at worst. She moved away from the camp after leaving a message for the Inquisitor with one of the other scouts. Cassandra followed behind, making a jarring amount of noise in her gear, though she spoke very little. Harding picked the way she thought Sera would probably take to hunt—high ground with a fair amount of small game and forage visible without moving far from the road. 

Spots of blood caught her attention near the base of a tree, causing Harding’s heart to jump into her throat as she hurried over, an arrow nocked and ready. “Look,” she said softly to Cassandra, pointing out her findings. Some of the grass was crushed as well, in the shape of a foot and knee. “Someone was here.”

While she was clearly trying to quiet her movements, the clanking of Cassandra’s weapons as she leaned to look grated Harding’s teeth. “Do you think she was injured?”

“Hard to say. It could also be a kill site if she was hunting.” Harding willed herself to calm and think rationally about the evidence at hand. “The pattern is wrong for an injury, I don’t think it’s her blood.”

“But she was here…?” Cassandra looked like she was going to say more, but her head snapped up and she looked into the distance through the trees. “Something’s coming.”

Harding heard the shuffling steps before the distant groans of the undead. A great many corpses by the sound of it. They rarely moved together in large groups, not without a good reason, anyway. On a hunch, she hauled herself into the closest tree while Cassandra stood guard, hoping to be able to see where the road dipped down and what waited for them below.

“Sweet Andraste,” Harding breathed. She had never seen so many in one place before. Something was definitely off.

“How many?” Cassandra asked, by all appearances perfectly calm.

“I counted 27, but it was hard to see all the way down the hill with the trees. There might be a cave down there. Do you think….?” Harding trailed off, not daring to put voice to her fear that Sera was trapped in the cave, or worse.

“We cannot know without going down there.” Cassandra shifted her grip on her shield and strode forward. “Cover me until you run out of arrows and then come down.”

“I can do one better,” Harding said, her expression fierce as she hefted a grenade in her hand and passed a second to Cassandra. They threw the grenades together, watching the satisfying explosion of fire and the distressed movements of the corpses below. 

With a brief nod, Cassandra yelled and ran forward with her shield held ahead of her like a battering ram. Harding starting picking off the ones that tried to flank her until her last arrow, which her instincts told her to save for the time being. Pulling both daggers, Harding charged down the hill after Cassandra, bodily knocking down the first corpse she encountered.

As she suspected, the road ended in a small cave, and she thought she could see movement inside. Whether it was another corpse, an animal, or her wayward lover she could not yet tell. Cassandra seemed to be unhindered regardless of being surrounded, so Harding began carving a path through the remaining undead as she made her way toward the cave.

“Sera?” Harding called out when she was close to the cave, hoping for a response. A muffled scream reached her ears, one that sounded an awful lot like Sera’s voice in distress. “Sera!”

Running forward, Harding nocked her last arrow, sliding into the entrance to the cave on her knees. Sera was there, her ankle caught in the grip of a pale hand. She smashed her boot into elbow of her attacker as she tried to struggle out a second opening in the rocks. “Duck!” Harding shouted, aiming for the head. No…the heart. The center looked more corporeal than the other parts. Harding fired.

Suddenly freed, Sera shot forward, scrabbling in the dirt until she found purchase to pull herself forward. Breathing hard, Harding lowered her bow and got to her feet. Behind her, the sounds of Cassandra dispatching the last of the corpses reached her ears. Harding leaned forward and dragged Sera out of the cave by her arms since she seemed unable to stand. “Where are your weapons?” she asked, bewildered by the situation. “Are you hurt?”

“I dropped them,” Sera mumbled, miserably embarrassed. “That…that…” she took a deep breath and tried again, talking a little too fast. “I panicked! There was this fucking mental ghost or something in there that wanted to eat my face off. I went in looking for nugs, but then there were these arse-faces blocking the door and I couldn’t get out—“

Harding pulled her up by her spaulders and kissed her without warning, hard and fierce. Sera responded in kind, throwing her arms around her neck tightly and squeezing until Harding felt like she might choke. 

Cassandra rescued both of them from strangling each other by noisily clearing her throat after several seconds. “Perhaps we should head back in case there are more of these on the way,” she suggested, nudging one of the corpses with the toe of her boot.

“Yes…yes, that’s probably a good idea,” Harding agreed, breathless from the fight and the kiss. She flushed in embarrassment when she noticed Cassandra pointedly looking anywhere but at her and Sera. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Sera added vigorously. She hesitated going back into the cave to retrieve her weapons, so Harding saved her the stress and did it herself. The creature lay there, gurgling blood, and she savagely drove the arrow deeper into its chest just to be sure it wouldn’t follow.

She grabbed Harding’s hand and starting leading her down the road at a brisk pace, Cassandra holding position as the rear guard, her weapons held relaxed but ready in her hands. Harding and Sera both kept their bows in their free hands, just in case, as they made their way back. Despite the oncoming sunrise, the gloomy landscape was hardly lighter than it had been when Harding and Cassandra left camp.

“So…what was that thing in the cave? I didn’t get a good look at it,” Cassandra eventually asked.

“I don’t really know, but it wasn’t the usual sort of corpse,” Harding answered, feeling a shudder run through Sera down her arm and through their clasped hands. She squeezed back gently. “Some kind of ghost, maybe?”

“Whatever it was, that bastard was fifty percent nonsense. He told the worst jokes,” Sera grumbled. 

Harding stared and gave a startled laugh. “Now that sounds like quite a story,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugo the hunger ghost is mostly borrowed from Hello From the Magic Tavern episode 26, which you can listen to [here](https://hellofromthemagictavern.com/2015/09/01/26-hunger-ghost/).


	4. Three Rogues and a Warrior Walk Into a Bar...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue, of sorts.

Girls’ night turned into a weekly drinking event at the Herald’s Rest, with a random roster depending on who was in residence on the day. She finally had the opportunity to invite Harding on her way back to the tavern after a satisfying hour harassing Blackwall about wooden sex toys, specifically about the dangers of splinters in one’s bits. Surprised to find her lover back at Skyhold unexpectedly, Sera had dragged her up to the second floor and where they spent the next hour napping together in the last of the afternoon sun until uproarious laughter from below indicated the usual festivities were underway.

“Girls’ niiiight!” Sera proclaimed loudly, echoed by Josephine and Cassandra, though reluctantly. Harding answered loudly a beat later, beaming at Sera as they knocked glasses and drank. Sera drained half her cup and held it out for Josephine to refill. “Did anyone bring cards?”

“Since we have a new member tonight, let us play instead…two truths and a lie,” Josephine suggested, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Ooh, yeah! I like that idea better,” Sera agreed enthusiastically. She thought she was decent at this game, and she might get to learn new things about Harding, which was most of what occupied her waking hours lately.

“Seconded,” Harding said, much to Sera’s delight.

“How is it played?” Cassandra was wary, but at least she wasn’t outright refusing like she had with Truth or Dare several weeks before.

“The rules are simple, all you have to do is tell two truths and one lie about yourself, then the other players have a chance to guess which is the lie. The stories can be in any order,” Josephine answered. She signaled the server to bring another bottle of wine. “It’s all the rage in court circles right now. It’s very amusing, I assure you.”

“Alright, but I do not want to start,” Cassandra agreed, leaning back to sip her wine.

Harding raised her hand sharply. “I’ll start. I’ve never played, but it sounds fun. Let’s see…” She tapped her chin and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Okay, got it. I once birthed a lamb in the middle of a lake. I have never had a threesome in a barn. I can hit a moving target blindfolded as long as it’s bigger and slower than a nug.”

Sera, having seen Harding shoot blindfolded on boring patrols, deliberated between the first two options. “It’s gotta be the first one. Otherwise the baby would drown, yeah?”

“I would agree,” Cassandra stated.

Josephine’s eyes sparkled as she considered her drink. “The second one is the lie.”

Harding reached over to top of Josephine’s cup from the fresh bottle. “Our lady ambassador is correct! I have never had a threesome…in a barn.” 

“What! But what about the time with the farmer’s twin sons? You’ve been lying to me about your romantic adventures, _Lace._ ” Sera glared in accusation. 

Harding made a face at Sera’s use of her first name, but she looked smug as she leaned back and crossed her arms. “Ah, but I never said it was in a barn. We were out in the fields.”

“Oooh, tricky! You’re quite good at this,” Sera punched her affectionately in the arm. “Okay, my turn—”

“Wait,” Cassandra interrupted, “How did you birth a lamb in the middle of a lake?”

“In a rowboat! I was taking her to a healer and the quickest way was across the lake. We didn’t make it in time to be any help, obviously.” Harding added quickly before anyone could ask, “The lamb was fine.”

“Fereldans are a most resourceful people,” Josephine said with a smile. “And now, please go ahead Sera.”

“Okay, I can hit a moving target blindfolded _smaller_ than a nug—“ Sera started, hoping to entice Harding into a friendly competition later; a friendly competition in which the prizes were kisses.

“I will believe that when I see it!” Cassandra slammed her drink down harder than she intended, and the wine sloshed out over her hand and the table.

“Oy, I’m not even finished!” Sera shouted back. “When I was kid I used climb the Vhenadahl and drop eggs on anyone that walked by. And…I really, really, really hate snow.”

“The second one,” Josephine said immediately. “Wouldn’t that be considered inappropriate?”

“When has that ever stopped her before?” Harding said with a laugh. “I’m guessing the first one because nobody can do that that I’ve ever heard of.”

“I stand by my original choice,” Cassandra sniffed.

“Joke’s on all of you, it’s the last one! I love snow!” Sera crowed. “Nobody cared I went up that stupid tree.”

“No way! I demand to see a demonstration of you shooting blind.” Harding knocked her fist against the table and then pointed an accusatory finger at Sera. “Tomorrow morning, you and me on the training ground.”

“If I can stand in the morning,” Sera agreed, brandishing her glass. 

“Fine, if you can stand in the morning.” Harding reached out to shake on it, and then pulled Sera in for a quick peck on the lips. “To seal the deal,” she explained, lips quirking at Sera’s giggle.

“Well now, I love a good round of two truths and a lie, especially if there’s kissing involved—got room for one more?” Varric asked hopefully from somewhere behind Sera.

“No dangly bits tonight, and you’ve got too much chest hair showing for Lady Josie’s sensibilities anyway,” Sera cackled.

Josephine countered, “Actually, I find it rather charming.” She looked just as clear-eyed as she had when they had arrived, not a hint of drunkeness, much to Sera’s consternation. She had yet to see Josephine anything less than witty, clever, and elegant in public, despite her and the Inquisitor’s better efforts.

“Fair enough, and I’m flattered, your ruffliness. So, you and Freckles, huh?” Varric leaned against the back of Harding’s chair, holding a drink and looking down curiously at them. He nudged Sera and asked with a pointed look at Harding, “Vertical or horizontal? Bisectuals can go either way, I hear.”

Josephine made a displeased noise. “Varric, that is an inappropriate thing to ask a woman.”

But Sera snorted in amusement and hid her face behind her cards. “Vertical,” she finally answered through suppressed giggles. “We have to use a mirror.”

Varric laughed. “Complicated.”

Cassandra opened her mouth, eyebrows deeply furrowed, but Harding interrupted before she could admonish him further, “Oh! I get it, bi- _sectual_ as in bisected, not bisexual. That might be the worst pun I’ve ever heard.”

“Tragically, I can’t take credit for it. Talk to Tiny over there if you want retribution.” Varric gestured toward the Chargers’ usual table and Bull seemed to notice them all looking at once and waved across the room, drunkenly oblivious to the conversation. “Well, I will leave you ladies to it. Enjoy your evening.” 

Varric winked at Cassandra, who gave him a strange look in return, and moved on to another table. “Tch, he is insufferable,” she said, looking down at the table and sullenly picking at a bit of splintered wood.

“And yet….” Josephine trailed off, eyebrows raised over her cup as she drank.

Sera flicked her eyes between her two companions and exchanged a look with Harding that said _this is interesting_. She leaned down to Harding’s ear, conspicuously hiding the gesture with her hand, and whispered, “Looks like mum’s got a little crush on dad.”

“What are you whispering about?” Cassandra asked as Harding kicked Sera lightly under the table.

“Nothing!” Sera said loudly. She quickly added before Cassandra could question her further, “It’s your turn, innit?”

“Yes, I’ve been waiting to hear of your stories, Cassandra,” Josephine encouraged her. “Please continue.”

After a moment of thought, Cassandra started, “Alright…two truths, and one lie…yes. I have fought three bears at once, alone.” She narrowed her eyes over her cup at Sera, who was about to launch into an imaginative fantasy of the Seeker fist-fighting bears in her small clothes in the Hinterlands. “With a sword, not my fists. I have not had the opportunity to wear a dress in over ten years. The first time I went on a dragon hunt, the beast ate my beloved childhood horse.”

“Oh, that is so sad!” Harding gasped and covered her mouth. Sera suspected it was at least partly a ruse, and she hid her grin behind her cup.

“It was a long time ago,” Cassandra answered with a shrug, then seemed to realize what she had just given away. “…You are very good at this game.”

“Absolutely ruthless!” Josephine added.

Harding gave a half-smile across the table and raised her cup. “You all have yet to learn I’m not as sweet as I look. The freckles are camouflage.”

“Alright, we know the last one is true, but the other two also seem pretty true to me….” Sera wasn’t sure which option to pick. “The middle one is the lie! I bet Her Most Holy Britches made you dress up fancy once a while, yeah?”

“I also find it hard to believe that ten years have passed without wearing a dress,” Josephine added.

“Well, I have a hard time imagining defeating three bears alone,” Harding finally said. “No offense, Lady Cassandra.”

“I never said I defeated them,” Cassandra replied. “I was assisted by passing templars before they could best me. I was young and too stupid to bring enough supplies while traveling.”

“Ha! Now I have go to snooping in your wardrobe and see what kind of dress you own, Cass,” Sera crowed.

If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn there was actual steam coming out of Cassandra’s nostrils as she half rose from her seat, though that just made Sera more curious. “You will do not such thing! That is private.”

“And now, my turn,” Josephine interjected, her voice slightly raised, perhaps in hopes of preventing a physical fight so early in the evening. 

“This is going to be good.” Sera backed down and leaned forward on her hand expectantly. She knew very little about Josephine, and even less of what she did know made sense.

Josephine looked thoughtful for a moment, sipping her drink in a way that built suspense. “My favorite pastime is embroidery. I was a pirate for two ill-advised months in my youth. One of my daggers once belonged to Emperor Freyan Valmont.”

Sera looked over at Harding, who was looking back with raised eyebrows. She did not know how to evaluate any of those statements. “Can we have a hint, maybe?”

Josephine laughed. “I believe that is against the rules.”

“I will guess the first one,” Cassandra stated. She was looking quite rosy-cheeked and glassy-eyed—probably moving beyond tipsy and heading towards drunk. Sera couldn’t blame her after the weeks they had digging through ripe corpses in the Exalted Plains.

Harding was staring intensely at Josephine with one eye narrowed. “The last one.”

“Well, I guess I’ll stand by my girl—I’m also guessing the last one.” Sera didn’t have a clue, but Harding did, so she went with that. She tipped her chair back and drained her cup. “And I really hope that pirate one is true.”

“Excellent, excellent!” Josephine clapped lightly. “It is the last one. This dagger was gifted to me by an former suitor, but I discovered it was a fake. He gave the real one to another women, so I…left him. A lovely fake was certainly not enough to make up for his lies.”

“What a rake,” Cassandra grunted in sympathy.

“Yeah, yeah, good story, but what about the piracy?” Sera dropped her chair and slammed her cup down. “Was it all swinging from ropes and dagger to the face and gold booty?” She imitated all of these gestures from her chair for emphasis, much to Harding’s amusement.

“No, nothing like that. The voyage was, sadly, uneventful. The ship was transporting goods and I joined the crew only as a quick way to travel. I spent much of it ill from contaminated water. Piracy is rarely as exciting as the tales make it out to be,” Josephine told her with a small, regretful sigh.

“Too bad.” Harding mirrored her sigh. “I think I wouldn’t have minded being a pirate, if I hadn’t joined the Inquisition. Anything that got me a chance to travel, honestly.”

“Blech, too much damp for me,” Sera said. “And I never would have met your freckly bum.”

“You act tough, but then you say the sappiest things sometimes.” Harding grinned at Sera and pinched her cheek. “Adorable.”

Sera could feel her face flushing and could do nothing to stop it. Her companions were all laughing at her around the table, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care so much about her image with Harding sitting next to her, holding her hand under the table and calling her cute. “Yeah, well…let’s do a round of cards? Not for money this time, I’m skint after last time.”

“Then we shall play for higher stakes—favors,” Josephine suggested.

“You’re on!” Sera agreed, knowing the odds were good for the game ending with Cassandra owing all of them for the next several months. And she might just have to let Harding win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter again heavily references Hello From the Magic Tavern, particularly [ep. 13](http://hellofromthemagictavern.com/2015/06/01/13-boys-night/) and [ep. 16](http://hellofromthemagictavern.com/2015/06/22/16-spintax-the-green/).


End file.
